


homesick

by cloudchasers_xx



Series: for a long time, i've wanted to do something [1]
Category: Designated Survivor (TV)
Genre: Gen, Male-Female Friendship, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, aaron is a soft bby™, emily is a traitor, emily negative, hannah helps, idk if this is angsty, just wait, listen to homesick by dua lipa for desired effect, no beta we die like hannah wells, pre Aaron/Hannah, the author isn't superwoman, this is part of a bigger series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-23
Updated: 2020-04-23
Packaged: 2021-03-01 19:15:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23802178
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cloudchasers_xx/pseuds/cloudchasers_xx
Summary: apparently, what happens in cuba doesn't necessarily stay in cuba.❝ you give me a reasonsomething to believe ini know, i know, i know ❞
Relationships: Aaron Shore & Hannah Wells
Series: for a long time, i've wanted to do something [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1714870
Comments: 2
Kudos: 2





	homesick

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Hideous_Sun_Demon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hideous_Sun_Demon/gifts).



> i got the inspiration from dua lipa's "homesick" and poof this fic was born.
> 
> THIS IS FOR MY FAVORITE AUTHOR EVER uwu

The ocean is so beautiful at dawn. 

Under the soft pink-orange sky, the water looks bruise-purple, whitecaps leaving foamy trails on the sand. The sun is only just peeking over the horizon, edging towards another gorgeous day. But before that begins, before the hustle and bustle and wailing sirens, Aaron sits on the beach on the cold sand and feels caught in a moment so peaceful, so nice, just the squalling of gulls and the gentle crash of the waves for company. 

He pushes stale air out of his lungs and breathes the fresh in deeply. The chill feels good, raises goosebumps on his skin and reminds him that he’s alive. A reminder he’s needed a lot lately. He’s been struggling, even though Cuba is months behind him, even though the betrayal of Emily doesn't sting as much anymore, even though his relationship with everyone in the White House is better than ever and he has no reason to be struggling. 

Nightmares come and go, cold sweats, little niggling thoughts that burrow their way into his brain throughout the day. He tries not to talk about it. There are so many people who have it worse than him and he doesn’t want to become some kind of social… leech around his friends, constantly draining them of energy by going on about his issues. _You’re exhausting_ , Emily - it still hurts to even mention her name - said to him once, and Aaron knows it’s true, knows he takes inches and runs them into miles. His heart may be in the right place, sure, but he doesn’t know when to shut up, when to slow down.

So what if he has bad dreams occasionally? He’s not a kid, he can look after himself. It’s more important right now that he’s there for his friends: asking Hannah how Amy’s doing, bridging the relationship between Lyor and Seth, being there for Hannah always, listening to Kendra talk whenever she does, and making sure that Hannah does not need to stop him from doing stupid things again. It doesn’t leave a lot of room for his own problems.

It doesn’t matter. That’s just what Aaron does for the people he loves.

The warmth of the sun creeps onto his face as it rises higher, prickling his skin. Aaron squints into it, seeing nothing but gold, then sighs and gets to his feet. He brushes sand off the seat of his pants before slowly turning and making his way back up the beach. 

He gets up to go to work.

* * *

Hannah's there in his office when he arrives at work - not his office per se, more of a temporary office since the National Security Adviser and Chief of Staff doesn't have an office, but Kirkman had been adamant to give him one - sitting down on the couch, relaxing.

"And I thought the FBI paid you to solve cases, not hang around my office." Aaron snarks as he walks into his office, dropping his briefcase as he collapses on to his chair, resting his head in his hands.

"Rough night?" Hannah asks as she sits up quickly, worry etched on her face. Aaron doesn't know if he should lie, and say everything is fine, or tell the truth that Cuba still haunts his mind, the words _I'll blow your head off_ echoing in his head, the mental images of General Bravo shooting Hannah still etched so clearly in his mind, he thinks it's real sometimes, which makes him wake up in cold sweat, screaming and kicking because it's Hannah and you _don't fucking do that to her-_

"Aaron?" She questions, the concern in her voice so clear even a deaf person will be able to pick it up, reaching for his arm, her warm and comforting hand contrasting his cold and clammy hands. He hisses from the contact, quickly retreating his hand. 

"I'm fine." Aaron snaps, harsher than intended as he brushes her hand off harder than intended. He winces as he looks at Hannah's face hardens before she walks out, probably her office. 

Aaron knows he screwed up, knows that he should probably see a therapist for the recurring nightmares and his mood swings that swing faster than the swing at his abelua's house whenever his nephews and nieces are over. He knows that pushing Hannah away will have a terrible outcome, because Hannah has always been there for him, and he doesn't get to act like some self entitled asshole to the one person he actually likes since _that fucking traitor-_

The knock on his office door startles him out of his thoughts. He walks to it, going to open it when he notices that his hands are shaking and they won't stop. He opens the door with shaking hands, letting Kendra in, and suddenly the room becomes ten times hotter, like a day in Singapore - because he's been there once and the heat there is the worst - and he can feel himself sweating and his heart hammering against his chest. His vision starts to swim and he's leaning against his desk, Kendra's words a blur as he tries to breath in and out, trying not to close his eyes because when he does he sees Hannah getting shot by General Bravo and it's absolutely terrifying to see your best friend - maybe more - getting shot. He grabs his tie, yanking it off before unbuttoning the first two buttons of his shirt.

Kendra's saying something, but Aaron doesn't know what it is, because he's back to the source of all his nightmares. Hannah's in front of him, doing the sign of the cross, even though she isn't catholic. General Bravo asks if she has any last words and when Hannah _doesn't respond-_

Aaron knows how it's going to end, but it doesn't mean that he can't do something about it. He screams, kicks and tries to pry off the arms that are holding him. “No! Don’t you dare _even_ TOUCH her!” Aaron screams and thrashes. “ _HANNAH!_ ” 

General Bravo shoots her, her entire body just falling to the floor, dark, red blood oozing out. He screams, kicks and flails, does everything in his power to try and get to Hannah because _god fucking damn it he never got to say how much he loves her-_

A hand cradles his jaw, and he knows it’s Hannah’s because he’s so used to Hannah touching him, a hug, a friendly pat on the cheek, shoulder bumping, and he practically melts under her touch. 

"Hey, it's okay." Hannah says in a soothing voice, pulling him in for a hug. "We're back, and I'm alive." Aaron sobs and clutches on Hannah for dear life, because she's alive, they both are. He can hear Kendra ushering Lyor and Seth out - they most likely held him down - despite Lyor's and Seth's growing protests. "We're alive, Aaron." Hannah whispers in a soothing way. "I'm alive, and so are you."

It's a while before any of them move.

* * *

The ocean is even more beautiful at dusk than dawn, Aaron decides as he takes in the picturesque scenery in front of him, adjusting his singlet.

It seems that even air has some special quality: it becomes harder and remains liquid. The beach is completely empty. Only rhythmic sounds of waves disturb this absolute silence. The ocean is quiet and waves are low. Dim light of stars and the moon create simmering reflections on the water as Aaron plops himself down onto the sand, breathing in the fresh air to remind himself that, yes, he's breathing, he's alive and that he's in Washington, not Cuba.

It seems like a ritual these days. Going to the beach helps him in a way, Aaron muses, helps to remind him that he's breathing, he's breathing, he's surviving. The wind blows and raises goosebumps on his skin, his un-gelled hair freeing his curls as it brushes his forehead. He takes in the view as he leans back lazily, resting on an elbow as he breathes harder this time, trying to get rid of the feeling that he has a gaping hole in his chest and it's getting bigger day by day. He stands up and walks closer to the ocean, taking in the saltiness of the air and the brightness of the moon. He walks until he's ankle deep, before sitting down again. The coldness of the water makes him shiver, but he basks in the cold, reminding him that he's alive.

It seems to be a reminder he needs more than ever. 

He knows he probably suffers from some variation of PTSD - he’s searched it up, he knows he fits all the symptoms - but his family doesn’t get mental illnesses, they don’t. Even when his father came back from war, even when his brother came back from Afghanistan. He drags himself closer until he’s waist deep, breathing in deeply again.

_I’m alive, I'm alive, I'm alive._

He buries his head in his hands, hates that he’s here, hates that he can’t let go of the past, hates that he has nightmares, just like a little kid, hates that he’s left alive to suffer. It doesn’t help that Hannah probably blames herself, he can see the guilt written all over her face every time she looks at him, and he hates it because he feels like a burden-

A voice interrupts his thoughts.

* * *

“Skinny dipping at… eleven o’clock at night, Shore? Mind if I join you?”

Aaron turns around to see Hannah standing there and he stands up, startled. Not because she’s there, but what she's wearing. He has never seen Hannah dress so casually, a blouse and shorts is what she’s wearing, together with slippers. “How did you know I was here?” Aaron asks, shaking off the sand from his hands and elbows as he walks to Hannah. “Is Amy okay? Are _you_ okay?”

“Geez,” Hannah snarks as she places her bag and slippers next to Aaron’s bag, “have some faith in me, Aaron. Amy’s at a sleepover. I just needed to relax.” Hannah sits down, gesturing for Aaron to do the same. He does, and the duo sits in silence for a while, just enjoying the view in front of them before Hannah speaks.

“You miss her?” Hannah asks, even though it seems more like a statement as she rests her head on Aaron’s shoulder. Aaron’s about to answer, but he stops. Did he miss Emily? In some twisted way he did, even though she played with his feelings and betrayed them. “Yes,” he admits, “in some weird, twisted fucking way, I miss her. Did you?”

“Did I what?”

“ _Love_ him?” Aaron probes. Aaron can see that she hesitates to answer as a few seconds go by before she answers. “I did.” Hannah whispers as she looks away, tears in her eyes, and suddenly Aaron wishes he didn’t ask the question. “I still do, actually. And I can’t help but hate myself for it, because Valeria was supposed to kill me and Damian shielded me from it. Damian’s blood will always be on my hands.”

“Does she know?”

“No, _I couldn’t-_ I couldn’t do that.” Hannah says, voice breaking. “I like to think that I’m somewhat redeeming myself by taking care of Amy.” They bask in the silence, making Aaron think.

“I thought about what you said.” Aaron speaks after minutes - if not hours, at least that was what it felt like for Aaron - of silence, breaking the silence.

“Mhm?”

“I’ll go for therapy. Know any good ones?” Aaron says, trying to lighten the mood.

“I can recommend you to one. My friend says she’s good.” Hannah says, tying her hair in a messy bun.

“Yours?”

“Nah, my therapist is vodka.” Hannah jokes as Aaron laughs, god knows how long he truly laughed. Unsurprisingly, Hannah’s the only one that can do that these days. It’s dawn when any of them move from their spot as they look into the horizon, just relishing the fact that they are alive.

They both are.


End file.
